


Bad Girls

by Abigail (artyandabby)



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Pre - Book 14: Cold Days, Revenge, Sexism, this fic is the definition of misandry, villains out shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7778917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artyandabby/pseuds/Abigail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meddle not in the affairs of semidivine girls, for they are vengeful and quick to anger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Girls

**Author's Note:**

> me, often: wtf(where's the femslash)

The presumptuousness of mortals never failed to amaze me. Particularly the male specimens. I had seen a lot of blatant imbecile behavior from them-Slate, Dresden, all the men who trespassed in my court. I smiled to myself. I would have to go check on them when I got home. That garden tended to melt down this time of year, even in Winter, and it wouldn’t do for my lovelies to run loose.  
“Penny for your thoughts.” a familiar voice said behind me. “Or whatever it is these days.”  
“You’d need a quarter at least.” I said, turning to saunter towards her. “I have lots of thoughts. Lots and lots and lots.”  
“So I’ve heard.” Deirdre said dryly. “I got your-” She looked down at the tag. “Tube dress. Chilly turquoise, as you said. The shopgirl gave me the oddest look.”  
“Is her head still attached?”  
“As much good as it did her.” She offered the small bunch of fabric.  
I offered her a smile that showed my teeth. It was the best sort, I find. “You’re a gem.”  
“My father often says so.” She pursed her lips, studying me. “I’m not certain I understand the function of such a garment, though.”  
I glanced at a young man walking by us, roughly the age I had been masquerading as for the past half-century. Tall, skinny, mousy brown hair. Like a bunny.  
His eyes tracked up and down me, stopping for a good five seconds on my ass. These shorts were just legendary. Literally. Modern minstrels had written songs about me in blue leather.  
“That’s the purpose.” I murmured.  
Deirdre pushed her hair out of her face, sable eyes widening. “Ah.”  
The boy did a u-turn and strolled towards us, hands in his pockets.  
Deirdre squinted. “What is he doing.” Her voice was flat enough to punctuate.  
“Hello, ladies.” He grinned and tipped his head towards us. “How are you doing?”  
“Better now that you’ve bowed.” I said, leaning against the facade of the shop. My hip jutted out. His eyes flicked down for a split second. He must have thought I hadn’t seen.  
Winter pulsed slow around me, frosty and fresh and alluring. Ice prickled the tips of my fingers. _Go ahead_ , I urged him. _I am so bored._  
He blinked. “I. What was I saying?”  
“Goodbye.” Deirdre said shortly. She looped her arm through mine and tugged.  
He jogged up beside me, keeping pace. “No, no, I was going to ask if you girls were all right. You looked a little lost.”  
“We were simply making conversation.” Deirdre waved one sharp hand. “You are of no use at the moment. You may go.”  
I swallowed a smirk. So blunt. Uptight, yet hot as hell. Those fallen angels-even I could stand to pick up some tricks.  
“Well, I….” He trailed off, coming to a stop in front of us. In my peripheral vision, I saw Deirdre’s eyes begin to smolder. Her eyebrows would burn off if he wasn’t careful, and then where would we be?  
“Say.” He folded his arms, looking us up and down. His eyes paused on our linked arms. I snuggled closer. “Are you two lesbians?”  
I raised my eyebrows in a perfect arch. Forward. This one could be entertaining. My mother would hate me, but....Court was awfully dull lately. And I was an independent woman. “I’m open to suggestions.”  
Deirdre, however, said, “What is it the mortals say, Maeve? It’s none of your fucking business.”  
“That is what they say.” I murmured, advancing on him.  
His head whipped from side to side. “Mortals?” His eyes could not decide what to fix on. It was a tough decision. Deirdre’s deathly glare or my breasts? Back and forth.  
“Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud.” I purred, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  
He flinched. “You’re cold.”  
“I run low. Blood pressure and all. What was your name again?” I tapped my finger under his chin. He was taller, but still managed to look up at me. Just how I liked it. “I didn’t catch it.”  
“M-Mark.” He stuttered.  
“Mark.” I smiled. “Are you an artist, Mark? Musician? I think we could make very beautiful music together. Music to die for.”  
Deirdre was still five feet away, arms crossed. Her face was smooth and unreadable.  
“Jealous? Come on, Deirdre.” I winked at her. “Let’s have a little fun.”  
She raised one eyebrow, and her lips curled up. It was the sort of smile a wolf gave a rabbit, or a komodo dragon gave an insect.  
The last was especially applicable.  
In one stride, she was standing next to me. Her fingernails had gone black and chitinous, and glimmering green scales crept up her arms, sliding out from under her skin. She was like the mermaids of old days, the real ones. Beautiful and deadly, amusing themselves singing foolish men to their deaths. I’d like to meet one someday, but for now, Deirdre was doing a very nice impression.  
Mark was trembling under my arm. His skin was the ugly, watery color of skim milk. “What? I’m-Do you see that?” He glanced up at me and flinched again.  
This time, Winter surged around me in a hurricane. I was the eye of the storm. Blue power laced over my fingers, through my hair, covering the sandals on my feet. The slogan on my shirt( _I’m Not Your Puppy Or Your Bitch_ , in big purple letters)was obscured by fluffy frost creeping up my chest. It sent little icy shivers through me.  
Queen Mab would have been proud of that. She always did have a flair for dramatics.  
Deirdre shook her head back, and black, silky locks turned to flashing silver with a noise that rent the air. She stared directly at the boy. A pair of eyes, glowing with hellfire, opened on her forehead.  
Mark screamed. He screamed like Jenny Greenteeth in a drought. He might have wet himself.  
He turned and scrambled away, tripping over his own feet. Getting a faceful of concrete barely deterred him. He was shaking all over.  
Deirdre came to stand beside me. In demon form, she was a good seven feet. Which was a good two feet taller than me.  
I pouted my lips. “I can’t reach you up there.”  
She sighed. “But it’s so much more fun like this.”  
“I know, baby.” I stroked her arm. The scales were as smooth as they looked. Almost soft.  
With another sigh, she shrunk down. The scales sunk back into her bronzy shoulders. Her blades retreated, leaving her hair mussed. “I’m still taller.”  
“Are not!”  
“I am!”  
“How dare you defy the high Lady of Winter?”  
Deirdre gave me a long-suffering look. She made a fist in the hem of my shirt and tugged me to her.  
I would have fought her on that. I swear I would have. But hot summer days like this one required some wetness, and if I got it from the mouth of a demon? Who cared.  
Somebody honked a horn at us. I pulled back, licking my lips, and marked the car. “We could always take that one home. I was going to do dinner theatre for the Wyldfae tonight.”  
Deirdre brushed her fingers through my hair. My spine tingled silver. “You can have the next one. There’s always a next one.”  
“Humans are so tiresome.” I whined, resting my head on her collarbone.  
She petted the small of my back where my shirt had ridden up. “Good thing you have me, then.”


End file.
